CHAPTER 233: CHAPTER 233 WHO WAS SHE?

The man nodded frantically, sweat dripping down his temples. "Y-Yes... Pablo destroyed my family. Burned everything. I was forced to run. But before I left, I overheard something. One of his men mentioned... a spy planted close to you. Very close. And... she—"

BANG!

The deafening crack of a sniper’s bullet cut through the night, echoing across the empty fields. The man’s head jerked violently, crimson blooming across his forehead as his body slumped lifelessly onto the ground.

"Act quickly!" Leo barked, his cold composure snapping into sharp command. His guards immediately moved, some diving for cover, others raising their weapons to locate the sniper’s position. Flashlights cut through the darkness, sweeping over rooftops, trees, and distant hills.

Leo crouched briefly beside the corpse, his gloved fingers brushing the still-warm shoulder. His jaw tightened. The man had been seconds away from saying something crucial. She... Who was she? His mind began spinning dangerously fast.

He rose to his full height, eyes flashing with fury. "Find him!" he ordered, voice harsh. "I want the sniper alive."

The guards split into teams, running into the darkness with heavy boots and loaded guns. Leo stood still, his coat whipping slightly with the breeze, his expression as dark as the night itself.

Inside, his blood was boiling. Someone had dared to step into his territory, dared to fire on his land, and dared to leave a puzzle behind that pointed directly to his home.

And the word she

kept ringing in his head.

"Sir, we found the sniper," one of the guards reported, dragging the tall figure forward.

Leo’s eyes lit up dangerously, not with joy but with that cold gleam that made even his men uneasy. "Take him to the basement," he ordered, his voice low, absolute.

The underground basement was dimly lit, walls of concrete stained with shadows of violence. Leo pulled on his white gloves, each movement slow and precise, like a ritual. He stood before the man—a lean sniper with sharp features, hands tied, yet oddly calm. Not a trace of fear crossed his face.

Leo’s own expression was unreadable, cold, almost robotic. His tall figure cut through the darkness as he approached, each footstep echoing against the floor. He gripped the sniper’s chin hard, forcing him to look up into those storm-gray eyes.

"Tell me," Leo asked, his voice like steel, "did Pablo send you?"

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then the sniper... laughed. A hollow, mocking sound that bounced off the basement walls.

"Hahaha... Leonardo Moretti," he sneered, his lips curling. "I know what you want. You’re desperate to find the spy inside your house, aren’t you? You want the name..." He leaned forward, still grinning despite Leo’s crushing grip on his face. "Let me tell you, it’s more complicated than you think. You won’t even guess it. You won’t even dare to think in that direction..."

Leo’s jaw tightened, his patience a blade’s edge. He wanted the answer, and he would rip it out of the man if he had to. But just as he opened his mouth to demand more, the sniper’s grin twisted into something feral.

And then—he went still. His body jerked, a faint crack sounding from inside his mouth. His pupils dilated, his skin paling in seconds. Foam trickled at the corner of his lips.

Leo’s eyes narrowed. Cyanide.

The bastard had kept the capsule hidden in his teeth.

"Damn it," Leo muttered under his breath, fury flashing in his eyes as the body slumped lifelessly in the chair.

The chance for answers—gone, dissolved in poison.

"Boss, we didn’t find anything on the corpse," one of his men reported.

Leo didn’t even react. His eyes, gray and stormy, stayed fixed on the dead sniper slumped against the chair. He gave a short nod, his voice low and sharp. "Clean it up."

He stripped off his gloves, tossed them into the bin nearby, and turned. His face was hard, unreadable, but inside his chest something gnawed and burned. For months, he had been sure the spy was hiding in the company, but now it seemed the snake was still inside his house.

The thought made his jaw ache. His steps were heavy, his shadow darker than the night itself as he left the basement. Even his guards, hardened men, stepped back as he passed. His aura was suffocating.

When he arrived home, silence swallowed the hall. He went upstairs, the weight of rage still clinging to his shoulders, until he opened the bedroom door.

His steps stopped.

The storm in his chest faltered when his eyes landed on her. Bella. Curled on his bed, hugging her Moonbeam plushie like a child, her lips parted in sleep. She looked small, soft, completely untouched by the darkness that ate at him. For a moment, just a moment, he felt his chest ease.

He didn’t wake her. He went straight to the shower, the cold water running over his tense body, but even that didn’t strip away the stress pressing on him.

By the time he lay down, exhaustion dragged at his bones. But sleep didn’t come. His mind spun, sharp and restless. He turned. Tossed. His breaths came too fast, and the frustration in him grew.

"Leo..."

Her soft voice broke through his thoughts. He turned his head. Bella had sat up, her hair messy, her eyes half-lidded with sleep, like a sleepy cat blinking at him.

"Sleep. It’s 3 AM," he muttered. His voice was gentler than he meant it to be.

She nodded, but instead of lying back down, she frowned at him. "You keep moving. You’re tired, you should sleep..."

"I can’t," he admitted, running a hand down his face. He hated saying it, hated feeling weak in front of her, but the truth came out anyway.

She stared at him for a moment, then whispered, "...Maybe because you’re hungry."

His brows shot up. "No, I’m not."

"Yes," she insisted, her tone soft but stubborn. "At dinner you barely ate anything. You must be hungry."

"I said I’m not."

"Come on," she tugged at his wrist with her small hand, and against all logic, against his better judgment, Leo let her pull him off the bed.